The Five Stages
by Rhiannon Starr
Summary: ONE SHOT: [SPOILERS FOR 5x20] Emma goes through the Five Stages of Grief after leaving Killian in the Underworld.
_Denial._

He was coming. She was sure of it. There was no way it ended like this, not now, not for them. Maybe this was all still part of the test, and she _had_ to leave him behind down there in order for them to pass. Any second now he would clear that hill and run to her, through the portal and home. Any second now… He was a survivor, he was going to find a way…

"Emma we have to go."

Her father was right, ok… they would go. It would be fine, because Killian was coming. She didn't remember much from school, a by-product of being bounced around so much, but she did always enjoy a Greek mythology; and the way _she_ had heard the Orpheus and Eurydice myth was not the way Hades told it. So maybe that was it… this was all still part of the test. She had to turn her back and walk out of this place in order for him to follow her.

They reappeared back in Storybrooke and Emma turned around in time to see the portal close.

 _Anger._

"No," she managed. "No! This isn't supposed to be like this!" she cried out, kicking at the now closed gateway to and from the Underworld. "This isn't how this was supposed to end!"

Charming came up behind her, turned her and tried to pull her into a hug which Emma pushed her way out of. "Emma…"

"No! This isn't fair! He's my True Love! And he's stuck down there! Don't you dare try to give me some hope speech because it's _over_ , Dad. Hook is gone."

Charming tried to comfort her again, but Emma disappeared in a swirl of white smoke. She reappears in the kitchen of _that_ house, and it's entirely to much for her. She screams, she throws anything that isn't nailed down. Glass shatters like her heart… it wasn't supposed to be this way.

 _Bargaining._

Emma is laying on the floor, among a sea of broken glass and overturned furniture. "Please," she says to no one. "Please. We didn't even have a chance. I'll do anything… I'll give up my magic… again," she mused. "Whatever you want me to do, just bring him back."

 _Depression_.

Snow and Charming find her curled up on his bunk on the Jolly Roger two days later, the morning of the funeral. She'd pulled his long leather duster over her like a blanket, with her head buried in the pillow. Their shared hearts breaks for their little girl who has known far too much loss. Snow wakes her gently, and they return to the loft to get ready.

There is an attempt at getting her to talk, to draw her out of her shell, but she's numb. Tears slip quietly down her face as Snow brushes her hair, and soft sobs escape her lips as she goes through the motions of getting dressed. _This is not how it was supposed to end… not for them._

Many people have gathered around the grave site; her family, Regina with Robin and Henry, Belle (alone), his old crew. This is wrong. They shouldn't be putting him in the ground, she thinks, he would have wanted a nautical funeral. She doesn't say anything because she can't; if she opens her mouth to speak now, it will be over. And she can't lose it, not in front of Henry. So she says nothing and stares at the offending headstone that bears his name.

And slowly the crowd filters out until it's just Emma and Henry standing side by side. He takes his mother's hand and squeezes, an attempt at comfort. They stand there silently for a few moments before Henry reaches into his coat with his free hand. A silver flask is withdrawn and handed to Emma.

"Ale of Sinead," he told her. "Merida thought… If you wanted to…"

Emma smiled for the first time in days. Her boy, her sweet Henry…

"Thanks kid," she said as she pulled him into a side hug and kissed the top of his head. Henry smiled and nodded, squeezing her hand one last time, but he walked away and left Emma to herself.

 _Acceptance._

She opens the flask and starts to tip it. She not sure what, but something makes her stop. She can't do it. She's lived through too many goodbyes with him to do it again. Who knows, if he's already moved on, if she can even call him back with this. No. It's over now, this is how it is. She twists the cap back on tightly. He's gone.

"Killian," her voice is small, and cracking but she goes on. "I don't know why… I don't understand why…" she struggles to collect herself and her thoughts. "I'm going to keep my promise to you, I'll always keep my promise. I… god, I wonder what would have happened if I trusted my gut on that beanstalk? Would we have had more time together? Would I even be standing here now? But I can't… you wouldn't want me to dwell on the what-ifs. I'm going to try to be happy Killian, I am… and I hope that wherever you are, you're happy too."

"I don't think I could be happier than I am right now, love."

She is frozen. It's a trick; an evil, horrible trick conjured up by the Crocodile. Emma turns and he is there, a hesitant smile on his face. She takes a cautious step which he mirrors and she doesn't care if it's a trick or not and she runs to his arms. She's reckless as brings her mouth up to his and they kiss and Emma is filled with a sense of warmth and rightness, and she knows… somehow, someway, he fought Death itself and made his way back to her. He was here, and their story was not over.

"Killian… how…?"

"Death cannot stop True Love… it can only delay it awhile."

And she smiles and laughs, because he's quoting _something_ and he has no idea and she aims to fix that one day, but right now none of it matters because he's here.

"Let's go home."

"As you wish…"


End file.
